Drifting. Darkness. Lightness.
Waking up. Stretching. Bright light. The sun, it shines brightly… to my right, warmth there on my arm and shoulder.
The rays stretch past me to a door-less closet spilling over with clothes beneath mostly empty hangers. An open door lets in its own light. A shabby, chipping chest of drawers under a small and smudged TV eclipses that light. On the wall behind it, there's a poster. Three scientists, smiling. Well, two scientists and a science guy. Carl Sagan, Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Bill Nye. The latter two are solid, while Carl is transparent in a radiant blue, dead-Jedi glow.
"May the science be with you."
A chill runs down my spine.
I'm not afraid of the poster... per se.
I've never been here before.
Sitting up. My heart pounding. Feeling my… bony chest. My boniness. I have braces. Why do I have braces?
My hands are small. My face feels small. My….
This isn't me.
What the-
"Morning!" – CHRIST! She scared the bajeezus out of me.
She’s… my mom, I guess.
No. She just is. I know that about her. Her name’s Judy.
What…
“Up, up, up!” she says, a mix of cheery and rushed.
…the actual…
“Gonna be late.”
…eff.
For school. Late for school. I’m a senior. Lake High.
She’s picking up what I guess – no, know – are my clothes. They’re scattered about what I guess – no, know – is my room. It is. It just is my room. It is.
But it's not because I’m not me. I’m… not me. I’m-
Jesse Lucas Johnson. 18. Still in school.
But that’s not me. I’m not this. I’m… married. She’s… Katie. Who’s Katie? She is. Who is? Where?
She is. She is where she is. She's my wife. Katie is her name. Katie is my wife.
The fact doesn’t want to take. It's, like, being bumped out by another thought occupying that exact mental space. One that says: No, she's not.
What the hell is going on?
Like on a track, I dress. Shirt. Socks. Pants.
Headed somewhere. Headed to the bathroom. That’s the bathroom. That’s my sister. She has mousey brown hair and blue eyes, like me. She’s called Victoria and she hates me.
“Move,” she says, bumping into me, hard, with her hip on her way out.
She hates me so much she dropped her toothbrush in the sink and just left it there. Only hesitated half a second before stomping off.
I hate her back so I spit on it.
Not really.
I’m just brushing my teeth. Not particularly good-looking. Skinny. A bit pale. Could use a shower.
No shower? No shower. Okay. No shower. Just… right to the… breakfast table, and….
But I’m 38. I’m 38. And I don’t live here. I’m Ryan Cobb. I live… somewhere else.
I’m trying to remember where. But I can't.
This house is relatively small. Ten steps from the bathroom and you’re down the hall.
I have a big house. That’s right. It’s big, brick, and I live in it. With Katie. Katie and Violet. That's my baby.
No, I'm Jesse Lucas Johnson, 18, dork, pizza delivery boy – avid astral projector gone reality shifter.
What does that even mean?
Further questioning is all the more confusing. There’s a menu in my vision relevant to my thoughts.
Okay, so I am dreaming.
My vision blurring beyond the Menu. A BGM playing softly in my head. It’s a jazzy song, some sort of Christmas song.
This is a super weird dream.
The Menu:
There’s a picture of me trying to look cool. Arms crossed, back to the edge of the frame of the menu and I’m wearing a Christmas hat.
Jesse Lucas Johnson.
Level 1 Human
HP: 44
Intelligence: 70
Strength: 2
Dexterity: 2
Luck: 7
Vitality: 2
Stamina: 2
What the actual fuck.
Mom’s beckoning me to eat. “Food’s getting cold.” I close the Menu. Or it closes on its own.
Waffles, bacon, eggs – scrambled – and a glass of 2% milk.
I scarf it up. I'm ravenous. But what about my diet? What diet? I'm 18.
No, I’m on a diet. I’m 38 with moderately high cholesterol. Shocking, I know – I’m fit, always have been. The price of eating whatever you want. Or maybe it was the cigarettes.
I'm gonna miss the bus. No, I have a car. Not Ryan’s Bimmer – the Focus. My car.
I slip on my shoes, grab my backpack, and hurry outside, where icicles trickle and a light snow melts.
Outside, for the first time this morning, I feel an urge, act upon it, and the body I’m in reacts; I (me) – scratched my nose. I did that. Not the auto-crap BS. I did it. Me. I can definitely feel the difference.
The seat is so cold. My windshield’s covered in ice. I get out with my scraper and scrape it. I’m seeing things; each scrape scraped comes with a briefly flashing number. It’s a 1 every time.
I sit back down and start the car. That was me again. Me.
What a piece of junk. Kinda like it. But I miss my Bimmer. The M3.
Gotta go to school. And I know just how to get there. I know because the kid – Jesse Lucas Johnson – does.
Jesse Lucas Johnson. Who’s Jesse Lucas Johnson?
Who’s Ryan Cobb?
I have split vision. On the one side is me, driving the Ford. On the other is me, the one I’d always been, driving the M3. I can… feel him inside my mind. Who? I don't know? The kid? It’s a creepy feeling. He’s better at merging minds than me. He’s searching. He’s… probing. Every thought is leading, leads to more probing, probing of another memory.
He’s driving my car; he's on my way to work.
A shiver runs down both spines as both bodies simultaneously laugh.
This is the craziest and most terrifying feeling I’ve ever felt.
At school. I find my parking spot. Only two days before Christmas break. That… excites me. The BGM again. It grows louder. It’s no Christmas song I’ve ever heard, but more like a Christmas-y theme for whatever this is.
And no. It’s not like having a song in my head. Just the comparison becomes a demonstration, as I’m trying to walk, on how to control the volume, mute it, shut it off.
This is a video game dream. That’s what this is. The most freakiest/creepiest one. And I’m somehow just stuck in it.
The Menu again. It was plain, unadorned. Now it’s Christmas-y.
It’s translucent, but not enough so.
I bump into… that's Alexis A. She's so very hot, thinks I'm equally not.
Sorry, I wave – me again. I did that. I still haven't spoken, but I try to, and it works. I say, “Shit.”
I feel small all the sudden. I’ve never felt small. I am small here. I was tall. Over six feet.
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I was….
Another menu. There’s a picture of me beneath my name.
Hey, there, handsome. Nice suit – I’m smiling devilishly.
Previous Avatar:
James Ryan Cobb
Level 3 Human
HP: 88
Intelligence: 47
Strength: 12
Dexterity: 9
Luck: 3
Stamina: 8
That was me. Whistling - that's it!
Hey, show my ME again.
Oh God, what does he think he’s doing? He's… looking through my phone at….
Those are nudes of Katie. Katie sent me those and he’s looking at them. Gawking.
Come on, dude - that's my wife!
He's sneaking off to the bathroom. A glimpse of the mirror reveals he’s smiling. He does it weird; doesn’t look right.
Another chill down both spines. He’s laughing again, and… I won’t say what he’s doing to me while looking at her.
He's gonna get me fired. I'm gonna kick his ass. I'm gonna… not kick his ass – because how could I? I'm him, and he's me! Him can’t beat me, even if I’m him!
This is too much. I wanna go home. I’m hiding in the bathroom at school, almost crying, almost laughing. I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home.
Where even am I? It doesn’t snow where I live.
Michigan. Damn. But I live in Florida.
I’m gonna drive there. I’m gonna do it. For real!
NO!
I can’t. Not yet.
It won’t let me.
Won't let me move.
CALIBRATION IN PROGRESS.
Besides, I only have 80 bucks.
I’m feeling rather… sedated.
CALIBRATION ERROR: FAILURE TO-
I have stuff to do.
Class. World History, AP. It’s weird that I feel so suddenly cool right now. About everything. About complying. It’s like… an urge or an impulse to adjust.
Go to class. Have a seat. Pull out pencil. Scribble notes. Answer questions. Take a test. Head down. Nose to the grind. I’m good at this shit. This, I can do. School. I can do some school. I’m good at it. Damn good at it.
I am he now. I am me now. Jesse Lucas Johnson. Jesse Lucas… Johnson.
Jesse Lucas Cobb.
Hey, wait – I’m Ryan Cobb!
#
I guess the little hypnotism/sedation didn’t work. I’m me, baby! Me, me, me!
#
Gym sucked because I suck. I loved gym growing up. This kid is a spaghetti noodle. That's what I'll call him. Noodle boy.
He can search my memories. Fine – I’ll search his too.
Noodle has no friends. Noodle has no enemies. Noodle is a lonely loner, a silent passerby. He’s creepy and feeble, even at work.
That, I admit, is sad, I guess. Even I feel bad for the twerp and look what I think he might have done to me. Inadvertently or not – doesn’t matter. He took my me from me. He snatched my body. I damn sure didn't snatch his.
How did he do it, though?
He set an intention before bed. I can see that clearly; I can read his mind.
I will wake up cool and successful. I will wake up cool and successful. I will wake up cool and successful. He said it over and over and over again. And then he did this… Out-Of-Body thing.
Cool and successful? I'm flattered, but the result – it definitely sucks! I remember it as if I’d done it. I remember it because I am he. Noodly, Noodly, Noodle boy. Noodle-boy-geek-geek-geek.
This sucks.
So does lunch.
There's a reason I’m not a teacher.
Bony hamburger, burnt fries. A carton of chocolate milk.
But this is starting to get easier. The more I comply, the more freedom I get. It’s almost like this is meant to happen. Is this some sort of test? Like the more I push, the more it pulls – unless I pull, and then suddenly I can push!
I can do that. I’m smart enough to figure this out.
So, off to Advanced Chemistry III it is. My crush, I'm afraid, will be there. Why am I afraid of her? I don't know, but I definitely am.
Gotta get a hold of these nerves, buddy. Gotta… maintain… calm.
Can’t wait to tell Katie about this stuff.
She’ll just think it’s another weird dream.
My heart sinks. Oh my God. There she is. Emily Guerella. The jocks call her gorilla, but she's anything but. I know it, they know it – we know it. We all wanna touch her butt.
Soft blonde hair, green eyes. Shapely figure, but subtle, and…
What am I saying? She's a kid of eighteen! We really must be merging minds. We really must at least share similar… taste.
He likes my wife. I like his crush.
OOH! Lucky me – we’re lab partners!
I… sit with her, kinda close.
“Hey,” she says without looking.
I smile, nod at her, say, “Sup?”
She doesn't say it back, or, not much, you? – or even smiles.
Oh my God… how embarrassing. She’s subtly covering her nose.
No, it's worse than that. She's holding her freaking breath.
Come on. I'm not that bad.
I'm so glad I can't see myself right now – not me-me – the me I am right now. J John or whatever.
Whoops – I guess I can. Panoramic view, like from a drone, but no drone. This is so weird. My hair’s sticking up like Alfalfa. Why didn't I take a shower?
Because I'm not me, I remember.
Will I ever shower again? I hope so.
I shrink. I guess I stink.
As I'm distracted, she turns and takes a deep breath.
What a terrible feeling. So, this is what it's like. Young, hormonal, horny, and with a crush. But grimy too.
Christ. I can't deal with this. I'm out. If this is a dream, and I'm lucid, I can wake up.
#
Eternal brightness. Infinite whiteness. I'm nothingness. I'm….
#
I gasp. “What the effing eff was that?!”
Everyone's staring at me. I'm… Jesse Lucas Johnson, in Chemistry, and the menu’s up again.
Well, whatever – fuck them. And hey, apparently, I can blank out. I can be nothing, in nothingness. So, two options: nothing, or this.
Emily is taking notes. I already know this stuff.
In all fairness, this kid’s bright. I play the market for other people for a reasonable cut. But this kid is an ace – a programmer, a hacker, an engineer. I feel smarter just being in this brain. Really smart.
Super smart.
And as me, he feels retarded.
Maybe he hacked reality….
From his perspective, he thinks, maybe – yeah.
It all started with unanswerable questions. He had so many. Things I’ve never wondered, even briefly. Never thought about it.
He has a powerful focus too, a laser-like focus of intent.
He can sit still and silence his thoughts. He can literally will his thoughts to shut off. How the…?
In doing that, he’s stumbled onto… something. At first, out of body. Okay, whatever – lots of people claim they do that. And maybe they do – who knows? But he’s gone beyond, tapped into something. He thinks maybe into the mind of god. Consciousness is everything. That's what he thinks, anyway. Is that true? Who knows. Never thought about it. Why would I? I play stocks. And who would?
But there's more to it than that, he thinks.
Yes, far more – and it’s bizarre; the further into intensely serious God-like stuff he got, the more abruptly things looped back, in his opinion, to the absurd. It’s like… he searched for God and discovered he's Elmo. That’s not what happened, but it felt like that to him.
He always imagined scientists, one day, would discover one of two things: The Universe truly is an accident. The Universe is computer generated code.
Both, he thinks, are accurate. And both, he knows, are untrue. The truth is so much simpler. It is what it is.
That’s it.
It just is… what it is? Yes. To each person. To everyone. At the end of some long cycle, they find… their truth.
What.
What's that. What’s that mean.
He doesn’t like me prying in his head. Everything’s a bit fuzzy there. The more I dig, the more fuzzy it gets.
What do you really think? Yes, you.
Consciousness is everything, and physical reality is its game.
No – A game. A video game. One of many. A VR.
There’s a lot of VRs. An infinite number. Because… he says….
He thinks that that’s just stupid enough to be true. So, it is true. To him. And he’s dragged me into his truth. He’s… allowing me to know that. No – he’s forcing me to believe it!
Why does he think that? Oh; he's not the only one. His idol, BC – that’s his name? – a physicist, does. And here I am. This is real. This is really happening. He’s assuring me of that. I am Me, truly – still, as I ever was. But now my me is in what he always thought was his, but wasn’t. Because things that seem concrete are also abstract, and those things that are fixed can become changeable too.
Whoa – we were so connected. But then he dropped off and he’s gone.
He… dismissed me, and I had to comply.
He's… on lunch, and… looking through my phone again.
I don't like this kid. I think he sucks. He takes me, my life, my existence, as a joke. I'm just a stereotypical moderate success story he’s curiously trying on. I bet he’s done this before. A million other times. With heroes. With murderers. With any given type of person you can think of.
He assures me that he hasn’t.
Will this last forever?
He assures me it will not.
He says it’s up to me. That I have a choice.
Do I? I ask simply with a thought.
He’s laughing. This is part of it, I feel. He somehow mentally shrugs. It’s a feeling. Expressed without words, as he has communicated all along. He says it’s so up to me, he won’t even stop me should I choose to die. As me. As him. As whoever I might find myself being.
I don’t know what that means. But the idea that he’ll be fine with me dying on account of his little experiment tips me over the edge. I’m a cool guy. By Jesse’s own criteria. And that involves being… cool. Like, the it as a result of the command “Cool it.” I’m chill. I don’t want any problems. I’ve always been like that.
But if he doesn’t watch himself, I will seriously kick his ass!
#
This car is such a piece of junk. Old Ford Focus, rundown and dying. But Mom's… hers could make the trip.
How much do I make a night? Like, $90 bucks tops; but tomorrow’s Friday – payday. Can I hold out till then? Can I be this kid that long?
What choice do I really have?
I'll cash my check, steal Mom’s car, and drive to my real self, demand answers.
He's laughing at me. From within me, my me, he's laughing. Come and get it, he warns. Come and find out.
Oh, you've got it coming, I think, loudly – whatever that means. But hey – it worked. He heard. He heard me think the thought, and he laughed at me in response.
#
I used to do this once. Deliver pizza. I worked at a major pizza chain. I met Katie there. She was my boss. It was… amazing. She was. It was. The whole thing.
#
Back home. I'm exhausted. That was the fastest I've driven, jogged – hustled – in a while. $123 bucks. Not bad. Not bad. Seems I can make even this kid charming. And all it took was a decent scrub!
#
Saturday morning. Katie would be at Pilates. Or, rather – she is – I can see that.
I can see a lot of things. We didn't have sex last night. The dorky dork boy couldn't seduce her. No game. Didn't try.
He settled for the phone pics again. I swear to God….
Mom didn't make breakfast this time. She's in the living room, on the couch. Coffee.
COFFEE.
I make a cup. She's shocked.
“Since when do you drink coffee?”
I shrug. Smile, take a sip.
“You've been so quiet lately.”
Another shrug, another sip.
There's a sadness in her eyes.
I sit next to her, lean on her, smiling.
She ruffles my hair. “You bathed. Oh, sweetie! You look so handsome.”
I miss my Katie.
#
The kid banks at Majestic. I deposit the check and hit the road.
This car had better make it. Don't have the heart to take Mom’s.
Mom is a real nice lady. In all fairness, a bit of a MILF.
BUT…
I won’t dwell on such thoughts, because people don't do that to other people – right?!
He laughs again.
What an evil little bastard. I'm on my way. Hope you're ready.
#
This is an insufferable drive. The kid has no radio and his phone sucks. I have just enough money to get to Florida and buy lunch.
Better make it count. Craving Taco Bell but it's not filling. Settle for a number 1 at BK.
That was a mistake, but we won’t go into deets.
How far now? From Tennessee?
#
It's midnight. I'm exhausted. I can't… do it… anymore.
I park at a rest stop for the night. Starving. But I sleep.
#
It's beyond a nightmare. This is. It is.
I'm not crying. Probably just hormones. Or maybe I'm just tired. Katie showered and walked out naked. He stared and it pisses me off.
My personality is rubbing off on him, his on mine. What if I become him? Assimilate? And he me.
I can't let that happen. That's my life! My wife! My Yioyet. My baby. My little girl he's holding out as if she's toxic waste.
That's right, give her to Mommy and I won't kill you.
He's getting annoyed with my threats. He's… giving me a warning. What does that mean?
Keep it up, and I'll lock you out.
#
I sped without speeding. I'm home. In town, anyway.
7-Elevens going up everywhere. Since when did the Wal-Mart close down?
Oh, that's probably it being rebuilt right there.
Whatever. I'm almost there – almost home….
#
I realize I can't just burst into the house. So, I wait.
I wait and I pester the body thief with thoughts. Come on, little turd. Come on. Come outside. I know you're in there.
He’s screwing with me. He keeps showing me with mental glimpses that he's walking to the front door and grabbing the knob, pausing, and then walking off. I can see him in my mind.
He just kissed Violet on the forehead. He just spanked Katie’s butt.
He’s screwing with me. He keeps showing me with mental glimpses that he's walking to the front door and grabbing the knob, pausing, and then walking off. I can see him in my mind.
That's it. I'm going in.
I'm small. No match for me.
But I am me. And he's still a geek inside.
The lawn looks better.
I see he likes garden gnomes.
He painted my effin door.
I'm at the door. It's locked. Very funny.
I kick it, hard. 1 HP. Again, almost fall. 1 HP.
Again. 1.
Again, harder! 2.
Again! 1.
I'm in such a rage when the door suddenly opens that it doesn't hit me, until the bullet does, who’s standing at my door.
It’s Katie. It's Katie, she's smiling, and she's got a gun.
Jesse is behind her, as me. As Ryan Cobb. The two of them smile at me.
Muzzle fire, shot after shot after shot – immediate blackness.
Nothingness.
A blinking cursor at the top left of blackness.
The Word: ENDED!
Devastating music.
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James Ryan Cobb (38)
Jesse Lucas Johnson (18)
Clement Armassi (27)
James Ryan Cobb (23)
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James Ryan Cobb (23)
